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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578323">Trapped In This Tainted Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashforstuckyandgot/pseuds/Trashforstuckyandgot'>Trashforstuckyandgot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Death, F/M, Ghosts, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Peter is a Little Shit, Sad, Tragic Romance, rebecca deserved better, toxic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:42:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashforstuckyandgot/pseuds/Trashforstuckyandgot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something charging in the air between them, electrical almost. When he moved his hand to brush his own thigh for comfort; Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat and she found herself wishing that he’d put it on hers. That he’d lean forward to kiss her until there was no more air in her lungs and his final act would be reaching down her throat to capture her scarlet heart in-between his fist-- forcing it to beat just for him. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma, Rebecca Jessel/Peter Quint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Trapped In This Tainted Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I finished watching The Haunting Of Bly Manor and idk why but Peter Quint and Rebecca Jessel gave me the feels. It was so horribly toxic but beautiful in a destructive way. So I sat down and scribbled a few words down and it turned into this. It kind of sucks though so fair warning and it lacks editing but oh well, we die like men I guess. </p><p>Regular deal; Please leave a kudos if you liked the story and do drop a comment down below, I love reading them even though I suck at replying.</p><p>Until next time,<br/>&lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I.</b>
</p><p>Rebecca wondered if it didn’t all start with the way Peter had smiled so secretively in the rearview mirror during her first ride to Bly Manor. There was something intoxicating about the way his eyes glimmered a somber grey, in the dull light of the English countryside. She’d never seen anything quite like it before and from that moment onwards; something inside of her would stir at the thought of Peter Quint, the right-hand man. </p><p>
  <b>II.</b>
</p><p>The children were lovely enough, positively delightful, even. Little Flora reminded Rebecca of herself; that fierce way she held herself and commanded the manor. Miles was a sweet boy who had the makings of becoming a great man. Rebecca always thought it so horribly sad that although those children were prodigies in their own rights; they were marked by grief at such a young age. She caught herself wondering how it didn’t manifest more obviously in their mannerisms. </p><p>“Dead doesn’t mean gone,” Flora shrugged one night when the au pair inquired gently about the young girl’s parents. </p><p>Rebecca found herself at a loss for words at that. All she could say was, “That is quite true, Flora. How about we ready you for bed now?”</p><p>“Oh, alright,” the girl nodded, carefully placing the dolls back in their rightful positions and turning to Rebecca with a dazzling grin, “Just in time. We mustn’t be up too late.” The words did not unnerve the au pair, for they had no reason to. But then again; Rebecca didn’t know what Flora did. </p><p>After having readied both of the children for bed, Rebecca found herself by Flora’s bedside saying a gentle goodnight. </p><p>“Sleep well, my dove.” </p><p>“Will you promise me something before you go to bed?” the young girl asked, a soft crease appearing between the space of her brows. Wondering what had taken over Flora, the au pair nodded solemnly. </p><p>“Anything,” she smiled softly, then winking, “Within reason, of course.” The girl proceeded to take hold of Rebecca’s quite strongly for someone of her delicate constitution.</p><p>“Promise me you will stay in bed all night,” Flora breathed, eyes insistent, “That you will not leave your room.” What on earth for? Rebecca wondered, but it meant a great deal to the child, she could see that. Therefore; the au pair nodded, but felt forced to implore further. </p><p>“Alright, but will you tell me why, Flora?” The girl bit her lip in contemplation at that, frowning with deep thought. </p><p>“The house is… strange at night,” Flora allowed cryptically, “And I simply want to know that you are where you are supposed to be.” </p><p>Rebecca chalked it up to Flora’s trauma of having lost both of her parents in the middle of the night and there, finally, were the signs of trauma she had been keeping her eye out for. That was something they could work on, perhaps; Flora’s need of control over her surroundings and the people that inhabited them. </p><p>“I will do well to stay in my bed,” Rebecca smiled, tucking a stray curl of brown hair out of the young girl’s face, earning a heartbreaking grin in return. </p><p>“I knew you would be reasonable,” Flora sighed, closing her eyes, “I knew that about you the first day you stepped foot on Bly manor.” Wondering how a child could be so observant and articulate at that tender age, all the au pair could do was observe with awe and a bit of sadness. The children were too old for their age. </p><p>After that, Rebecca Jessel returned to her room with a weary sigh. Although her position was quite lovely indeed; caring for children was tiring work, even in such a luxurious manor as Bly. She turned on the lamp upon entrance, picked out her sleeping garments and changed in front of the large, full-view mirror. In the midst of tying her robe around her waist; Rebecca thought she saw something in the corner of her eye, right by the door. But it was gone as soon as she blinked. </p><p>“You have gone quite mad,” the au pair told herself with an amused shake of her head. The day had simply been so eventful that it was seeping into her calm night, but what a beautiful night that it was! The moon was full and rested high up in the sky, shedding its luminous glow over the courtyard in all its dark glory. The view was hauntingly beautiful and Rebecca felt rather like a young, Victorian lady of the manor-- bathed in luminescent moonglow and dark secrets that none would come to know. </p><p>But she was feeling restless, if that was even possible. Something inside of her yearned for action, of what kind she knew not. Or perhaps the au pair did, but refused to acknowledge it. Rebecca sighed in frustration as she laid flat on the bed, watching the splinters of moonglow from the window create dancing shadows upon the door and the walls. Suddenly, or perhaps it was always meant to be; her thoughts drifted to Peter, the handsome valet with that ridiculously attractive scottish dialect. She had always fancied Scotsmen. </p><p>He was intrigued by her, too. That; Rebecca could tell and he exuded an appeal that still succeeded in making her feel weak at the knees. It was a bit embarrassing that a man she’d only met twice had such a power to undo her fastened holdings. Dealing with men was a tricky business and most of the time; they were more trouble than they were worth. But Peter was different, wasn’t he? He wasn’t a boy like Jasper, Oliver and all the other ones had been at heart, he was a man. </p><p>The au pair caught herself feeling equal parts giddy and wroth with herself. No, Peter was just a handsome stranger that she needed to get out of her mind. He would probably not visit Bly manor again and if he were to; he would have no business with her. He was most likely even tied to another and Rebecca would not be a piece in an untruthful game. However; that did not mean that she could not have her fun while Peter’s ghost took his leave of her. </p><p>So, she allowed her dainty fingers to creep up her thighs as her head fell back on the pillow, her lower lip captured by her front row of teeth and a soft crease of ecstasy forming between the space of her brows.</p><p>For a brief moment; </p><p>It was her and it was him and it was <em> them. </em> </p><p>
  <b>IIII.</b>
</p><p>When Peter gifted her with flowers under the guise of giving them to Flora; she could not help but feel touched by the gesture. In her constant search for ambition and something to further her career; she’d never stopped and let herself be cared for-- courted or whatever it was that was occurring. It felt nice. </p><p>The way he spoke so fervently about her when they shared that cup of tea... was intoxicating. It felt as if he ripped into her ever so softly and enveloped her in his warm embrace. Rebecca’s own father had not cared for her achievements; he thought her place was in the home, as a wife and a mother. Education was for men. Work was for men. But Peter didn’t think like that; he thought it downright horrid that she should be cooped away in some blasted manor, taking care of two rich children. Hearing him speak like that, it almost aroused her, no it did, didn’t it? </p><p>Rebecca felt a borderline euphoric relief when the howling thunder-storm was too heavy for Peter Quint to drive home in. She had implored him to stay, to wait until the worst of it passed and he’d agreed. They then moved to the fireplace, perhaps sitting a bit too close to be proper to each other, but the au pair found that she did not care in the slightest. What <em> did </em>matter was the wonder escaping Peter’s lips, the way he spoke so profoundly about life. </p><p>There was something charging in the air between them, electrical almost. When he moved his hand to brush his own thigh for comfort; Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat and she found herself wishing that he’d put it on hers. That he’d lean forward to kiss her until there was no more air in her lungs and his final act would be reaching down her throat to capture her scarlet heart in-between his fist-- forcing it to beat just for him. </p><p>But then… he stood up and left in a haste,</p><p>Leaving her mind a muddled haze. </p><p>
  <strong>V.</strong>
</p><p>She was tossing and turning, trying to sleep when she heard the tell-tale creaks of someone by her door. At first; the au pair thought it might be Flora or Miles, visiting her after a nightmare but the steps were heavier than their little creaks and the children had never visited during the night before. Of course the house could’ve done it by itself and there was no one outside. It was old, after all, and old houses inhale and exhale like people do. </p><p>However; it grew closer and for all her stalling; Rebecca <em> knew </em>who it was. And he was as welcome a ghost as any. She stood up lithely, moving toward the door and twisting the knob. </p><p>“Peter,” she whispered upon seeing his towering body in front of her, yet he appeared unsure, opening his mouth to speak but nothing coherent would come out. It seemed for a moment that he was to turn around and leave, but the au pair would not have that, so she reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her. </p><p>His lips crashed down on hers with a maddening ferocity, she barely had the time to reach out and close the door, locking it, lest the children visit her. But they would not, those children never strayed from their beds during the night. At first; she had thought it peculiar but the initial confusion had turned into acceptance. Sleeping children were better than lurking children. </p><p>“Rebecca,” Peter brought her back to reality, word a mere pleading whisper as his hands roamed her body with a raw strength, touching whatever part of her that they could reach. Suddenly, the man hoisted her up into his arms, moving to place her on the bed. He engulfed her with his large presence, worshipping her like some forgotten goddess of the earth. Rebecca found that she could not get enough of his powerful hands, walking the line between pain and pleasure with renowned delicacy. </p><p>With crazed fervence, Rebecca helped him out of his clothes and he did the same for her, Peter delighting in the sounds she made as he kissed and nibbled on her neck, while his right hand slipped between her thighs, the pleasure so immediate that she could barely comprehend it at first. </p><p>“Oh, Peter,” she repeated in frantic whispers, trying to match the certainty in which he moved but Quint was not a man who wanted to be equal to his lover when it came to sex; he wanted to possess them in both body and soul and the au pair found that… she’d let him. He was equal everywhere else, wasn’t he? And she liked it, no loved the way he was fucking her. That good, that deep. She’d never felt anything like it; it was almost sacrilegious. </p><p>Then he was inside of her and nothing had ever felt more right. It was as if they had been written in the very moon and the stars that littered across the night-sky in glowing specks. He was pushing so hard and so deep, mouth alternating between her lips, neck and breasts-- anywhere he could reach. Peter Quint had planted himself inside of her in body, mind, heart and soul. He would never leave.</p><p>“Oh, fuck, Rebecca,” the man whose hair glimmered a pale blonde in the moonlight groaned, her name a prayer upon his lips.</p><p>“God,” the au pair returned his moan, dainty fingers tangling in hair, legs wrapping around his hips-- demanding to feel everything more deeply. To be him as he was her. For them to become one. </p><p>“You’ll be the ruin of me,” Peter groaned, turning his head to her with a grin, having rolled over onto his back, chest heaving with the evidence of their love-affair. </p><p>“And you,” she began softly, placing a hand over his chest and feeling the remnants of the lingering ecstasy leave her, “Will be the death of me.” </p><p>“And what a sweet death it will be,” he stared at her through his dark lashes, eyes on her lips, head inching closer, “If it feels half as good as this did.” </p><p>
  <b>VI.</b>
</p><p>She had genuinely not meant anything by tasting Owen’s batter. It wasn’t some hidden innuendo, nor a want to make Peter jealous. Rebecca was not that kind of woman and it hurt her that Quint thought she did it purposefully. Did he not know her at all? </p><p>“What’s going on?” Rebecca asked in confusion upon seeing him pack his suitcase.</p><p>“I’m going back to London,” he told her curtly. Sometimes Peter was fire, sometimes he was ice and Rebecca could never manage to match his temperatures. </p><p>“Oh... I-I thought,” the au pair eyed her lover sadly, wondering why on earth he would leave early. </p><p>“Yeah, well we both had a disappointing evening, haven’t we, Rebecca?” </p><p>“Um,” she hesitated, not quite knowing what to say and feeling awfully wounded by his dismissive nature, “When are you coming back?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” was all the wretchedly beautiful man decided to say, making fire of her blood. However; Rebecca was used to injustice and always aspired to keep her cool.</p><p>“Will it be long?” she fidgeted with her hands anxiously.</p><p>“I’m not sure,” Peter shrugged, continuing to pack, “But you’ll be fine won’t you?” Rebecca wondered what that was supposed to mean. Had she done something to offend him? </p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>“I mean,” Quint began, “If you’re going to flirt with him in front of me, why should I stay for that?” That was what it was about? Owen? She could feel her nails dig into the soft skin of her palms, almost drawing blood. He was being terribly unfair.</p><p>Then, he made a comment about how Owen could sate her needs if she grew hungry and that was the drop that made the cup overflow.</p><p>“Have you gone mad? What are you talking ab-” she asked Peter and he seemed to grow ten feet tall in his anger, dropping his bags forcefully.</p><p>“I’m talking about that man who you opened wide for, not two hours ago! Mad! You wanted people to take you seriously. You said you took this job ‘cause you didn’t want old men looking up your skirt or down your blouse, but age ‘em down and dumb ‘em up and you just open when you’re told, is that it? Do you have any idea what you look like?” Angry, bitter tears filled her eyes upon hearing his coarse words, making her out to be some stray dog who changed allegiance depending on who fed her. In truth; Rebecca had never looked twice at Owen and in any case; he wasn’t hers to look at. He was Hannah’s.</p><p>Rebecca fell in love with Peter slowly at first, but then it happened all at once and it scared her. Now; she was truly frightened because she knew in her heart that he could say all those things to her and she would <em> still </em> try to fix it. She would <em> still </em>forgive him. She would tell him off for it, of course; but in the end; he had reached down her throat and through all the blood and gore; claimed her pulsating heart for his own. </p><p>Deciding to attempt to diffuse the situation, she said, “He-- he just… He--he asked me to taste his batter.” </p><p>“God, fuck!” Peter exclaimed in anger, turning away from her, as if her attempt at explaining had made everything so much worse. Then, he groaned and said something about her being naive when she wanted to be, which wasn’t true at all. The au pair could truly not see what she had done wrong in the situation. </p><p>“That’s good to know,” he said suddenly, grabbing his briefcase, “It’s good to know that when a man asks you to put something in your mouth, he doesn’t have to ask twice.” </p><p>Rebecca found herself stunned by the words, trying to explain that Owen wasn’t flirting with her, she wanted to say that he was completely and irrevocably in love with Hannah, both of them were just too stubborn to act on it. But only stutters appeared and a weak explanation of how he was misunderstanding it entirely, yet Peter wouldn’t hear it. </p><p>“You’ll be fine,” he said and left her standing alone in her room. </p><p>She cried herself to sleep that night. </p><p>At first; in anger. </p><p>Then; in sorrow. </p><p>
  <b>VII.</b>
</p><p>She wanted to slap him across the face when he appeared out of the blue on that sunny friday, his smile as vibrant as that of all the stars in the sky. As if he hadn’t treated her like some common street-harlot the last time they saw each other. </p><p>“Don’t touch me!” Rebecca pushed him away when he reached in for an embrace.</p><p>“Rebecca, darling,” he appeared shocked by her frosty greeting. His changes of mood were beginning to give her whiplash of the most serious kind. Why couldn’t he ever be stagnant? But… If he was stagnant then he wouldn’t be Peter, wasn’t it all just a cruel, dark circle?</p><p>“You can’t just talk to me like I’m some kind of whore, disappear and then come back and try to act as if everything is normal. That won’t fly with me!” the au pair fumed, cursing herself for noticing just how handsome he looked with his hair slicked to the side like that.</p><p>“What?” he asked her, as if he was genuinely confused regarding her statements. </p><p>“You talk to me like I’m rubbish and I haven’t heard from you in days!” </p><p>“Keep it down,” Peter implored her, but it only fueled her anger. </p><p>“Don’t tell me what to do!” the au pair hissed, shaking her head at him. </p><p>“I’m not,” he pleaded, as if <em> she </em> was the unhinged one, as if <em> she </em>was the one causing all the difficulties, “I just don’t understand why you’re upset.”</p><p>“Last time I saw you,” she tried again, forcing herself to be calm, “You were banging on about me having Owen’s batter in my mouth.” Peter sighed loudly at that, as if it had all been a misunderstanding. </p><p>“Oh, come on. I forgot all about that, Becs.” The au pair pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration at his words. He was the one who’d made it such a big deal in the first place! </p><p> “I didn’t.” Her voice was cold as stone.</p><p>Knowing that his girlfriend was not going to let it go, Peter chose to apologise, reaching out and taking hold of her hand-- and she was putty in his hands, once more. Peter’s for the shaping. </p><p>“I don’t even know who that was,” he murmured apologetically, “I’m just in deeper than I thought, I guess.” For some odd reason that excused him in her heart, when it really shouldn’t have. Rebecca reached out, patting his chest as she stared into those blue eyes, like silent oceans. </p><p>“You don’t get to talk to me like that again,” she felt forced to say, to make sure he knew. And he promised her that he wouldn’t.</p><p>The entire thing already felt minimized to Rebecca. He’d said stupid things in his jealousy, men were like that, weren’t they? And Peter was always so good and kind to her; he loved her, didn’t he? And so; their first quarrel was dispelled like a fever dream, as if it had never truly been. </p><p>Their reunion was sealed by a kiss, </p><p>Peter’s tongue tracing her lower lip leaving promises of more. </p><p><b>VIII.</b> </p><p>He’d lied. Peter had lied, stolen money and then he’d left her. He’d even been meaning to turn her into an accomplice. All that talk about America, of their new life and their dreams; it felt so horribly false to Rebecca now. </p><p>She wagered that she could fill an entire ocean with the sheer power of her anger toward the man that she had loved-- still loved for some ungodly reason. Peter Quint had reached inside her body, twisted her insides and fashioned himself a home. He’d betrayed her in the worst way a person could betray the one they loved the most; he’d left her behind. </p><p>Hannah didn’t understand and Jamie didn’t either. They had their reasons to dislike Peter, but they didn’t comprehend him the way that Rebecca did. They couldn’t <em> see </em>him the way she did; the way he rose her up and made her feel like she was in both the earth and the trees. Jamie told her that it was a good thing, that the Peter situation could serve to get her on the right track again, but how could she? Not when he’d ripped out her heart and taken it with him, wherever it was that he was. </p><p>However much it pained the pragmatic, ambitious and independent lady she had once been, the one that still existed somewhere within; </p><p>Rebecca wanted Peter there.</p><p>To kiss her,</p><p>To love her, </p><p>To wipe away her tears. </p><p>To never leave. </p><p>She wanted him for all of eternity.</p><p>
  <b>VIIII.</b>
</p><p>Peter hadn’t left her. He’d died. And the grief was so heavy it felt like someone had ripped inside her body, taken her lungs and left her writhing on the floor. Unable to breathe, unable to speak, unable to scream. Rebecca was in a black hole of misery, only made lighter by those moments her beloved Peter Quint would appear. Yet, he was never able to stay long and it was maddening, the way he couldn’t touch her. The way he couldn’t console her; now that she yearned for his touch more than ever. </p><p>They’d tried everything to be together but America was out of the question because he couldn’t leave the grounds of Bly manor, not even in her. He would tuck her away in a happy memory of them sometimes. Like the one where he’d gifted her a dead lady’s fur-coat. It was oddly romantic when it shouldn’t have been. God, he’d probably stolen that, too. </p><p>But they <em> weren’t </em>together. It was only Peter controlling the dream, inhabiting his dear, darling Rebecca. He was so lonely and she was too. Many times; she would seek to alleviate his pain but they were in two different worlds and his belonged to that of the dead. Sometimes; she would cry because she’d never feel his true touch again, never feel his lips on her skin again. </p><p>For so long they had tried, thinking that if he focused enough or wanted it enough; glitches would appear. Once or twice they actually did but he didn’t feel right. He was cold and damp, skin glistening unhealthily and that soft hair felt as brittle as straw... but when he pressed his cold lips against hers, she forgot. Then, she would wake alone and there was no one to hold. </p><p>“What if there was a way,” Peter told her one night, after one of their failed attempts at any sort of closeness. Rebecca wrapped the black robe tighter around her naked body, wanting to reach out and trace Quint’s chest but… she reached right through him and that broke her heart like nothing else, “A way for us to be together forever, truly?” </p><p>“What do you mean?” she asked him with a small frown, the cold air of Bly manor freezing her from within. </p><p>“A way for you and me to become us.” </p><p>“Always?” Rebecca inquired, brown eyes peering at him like those of a child willing to believe anything. </p><p>“Always,” he promised her. </p><p>
  <b>X.</b>
</p><p>Peter killed her. He claimed her body for his own and drowned her in the name of them being together forever, but it wasn’t what Rebecca had wanted. It was not how it was supposed to be… she still had things she wanted to do, things she wanted to be. The au pair had loved him until every piece of her was torn and bleeding and gone but it hadn’t been enough. Even in death; Peter wanted to possess her the way he had in life. </p><p>He’d left her to die all alone. When the murky lake-water began filling up her lungs as a last supper; Rebecca was left alone in the bed, peering up at the blue depth surrounding her and when she woke, it had been too late. Those meagre attempts to cling on to her life had been in vain. The lake of Bly manor had been her final resting place, the seaweed’s caresses her last touch, the water her last love. </p><p>She would spend her days and nights weeping by the lake, a haunted woman in her own right. Sometimes, Rebecca would tuck herself into a safe and warm memory, but that was all it was; a memory. Peter and her would never be able to make more of those; they would simply dwindle until time claimed their souls and left them blank. </p><p><em> “I’m sorry, my love,” </em> Peter had told her after, but he had taken her life. How was he to atone for that? He had needed to drag her with him into death because he could not let her go in life. Their love was almost as grotesque as their bloated corpses; but it was <em> their </em> love, however tainted it was and it was <em> all </em>she had now. </p><p>Peter appeared by her side as Rebecca sat by a patch on the grass, overlooking the lake where she had passed. </p><p>“You killed me,” she stated, warm tears filling her brown eyes as they spilled down her cheeks, one by one. </p><p>“I know,” he replied somberly and placed a hand on her knee. She could not feel anything but its weight. No warmth, no cold. </p><p>“And I hate you,” she told him, feeling the way his presence engulfed her but not <em> feeling </em>it. There was no beating heart, no warm breath in the crook of her neck. If she wanted that; she’d have to tuck herself away into a memory. </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“Almost as much as I love you,” she wept, wondering how she could still love him, even in death. </p><p>“We will find a way to be together again, Becs, truly,” he whispered into her ear</p><p>“Your ways never work,” Rebecca said bitterly.</p><p>And she tucked herself into a memory where there was no more pain.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please leave a kudos if you liked the story and do drop a comment down below, I love reading them even though I suck at replying :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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